


Simplicity

by Emery



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Drabble Trade, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/pseuds/Emery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the head navigator and fighter team of the Sleipnir, Keeler and Encke are no strangers to difficulty and hardship, and it's for this reason that they hold such a high regard for the simple things in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simplicity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asocialconstruct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/gifts).



> Written for a drabble trade with Social Construct, even thought it ended up being longer than I originally intended! Length aside, this was my first time writing Keeler and Encke, and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. Basically, I’m coming to find that I love all the Starfighter characters a little too much.

“Don’t you ever just get tired of it all, Encke? Dealing with a bunch of naïve fighters who all think they’re the best and don’t even realize that they’ve been brainwashed by their own need for violence?”

“Careful what you say, babe. I’m a fighter, too.”

“But you’re not like  _them_ ,” Keeler retorted calmly, unfazed as he swept his loosely braided hair behind his shoulder.

Encke sighed and plopped down onto the edge of the bed, kicking off his boots and pulling off his jacket to toss on the floor. Normally, Keeler would have shot him a dirty glare, one that said  _Pick that up, Encke, it’s an order not a suggestion,_ but the conversation they were having was more important. Encke realized his mistake anyway and leaned forward with a groan to fetch the jacket from its very temporary resting place on the floor.

“I may not be now, but I used to be. You’ve got to be like that, to be a fighter. It’s a rough world, tougher than it is for you navigators. If you don’t fight it out, you’ll be nowhere.”

Keeler grimaced, knowing that what his fighter said was true to an extent. Among the navigators, it was a battle of brains and wit and creativity. Among the fighters? More like an animalistic fight to the death. No wonder Encke always looked so tired at the end of a long day, just as he did now. No wonder he always moaned and groaned at his sore muscles and protesting joints.

The attitude of the Sleipnir’s head navigator took a full 360-degree turn at the thought of how worn out his partner, his friend, his  _lover_ really was. With a gentle smile curling the corner of his pale lips, Keeler stepped lightly to his own side of the bed and crawled atop the sheets until he was sitting behind the fighter. Long fingers and strong yet bony hands kneaded persistently at the knots in Encke’s neck and shoulders, and for several minutes there was nothing but sweet, comfortable silence between the two of them.

They were both experienced members of the Alliance, hardened to difficulties and challenges, admittedly exhausted from the constant stress of war and the never-ending cycle of attack, defend, attack, defend. It was times like these that they treasured most, the silent moments, the calm nights, the gentle caresses. The peacefulness of it all was like a drug—a rare, very addictive drug.

“No matter how much you defend them, you’re sick of ordering them around. I know you are. I can tell, Encke.” It was true. Keeler and Encke knew that there was no use hiding anything from each other, not when they knew each other so well, connected by a bond too deep for description.

The larger man only shrugged as acknowledgment, unwilling to verbally admit to his tiredness, his weakness.

Keeler’s fingers kept moving along Encke’s muscled back, sometimes pressing and kneading, sometimes tracing absentminded circles along the fabric of the thin undershirt.

“You want a break from being in charge, don’t you?” Keeler asked, though the phrase sounded more like a statement than a question. “You want things to be the other way around for once. It’s getting too monotonous for you.”

“Stop analyzing me, Keeler,” Encke sighed with only half-hearted frustration.

Keeler grinned and his fingers stopped moving along Encke’s back, instead sliding around to hold onto the fighter’s strong upper arms as he leaned forward to rest his chin on Encke’s shoulder. Long strands of platinum hair tickled Encke’s neck, sending shivers up his spine, and his navigator’s warm breath caressing his ear was a sensual relief.

“You know I don’t mind calling the shots every once in awhile, love. Here in this room, it’s however you want it.”

Encke smiled then, fully aware that he was under Keeler’s manipulative spell and that there was no way out. Even if there had been, did he  _want_ to be out?  It was just like a navigator to ensnare him like this, but this was the one navigator that could have his way with Encke without a single repercussion.

“You’re a sly bastard, Keeler, you know that? If you wanted to be on top, you could have just said so.”

“This is what we do though, honey, and you know it. Fighters fight, navigators navigate. It’s as simple as that.”

Navigating space, navigating the mind of another in a game of manipulation and clever tricks—it was all the same, all about reflexes and thinking ahead and scheming to conquer. A game of chess.

In Encke’s mind, Keeler’s way of thinking was anything  _but_ simple. Simple was a well-executed punch in the face, a perfectly-aimed kick in the groin, a happy trigger finger. Simple was these moments with his lover, shared so intimately behind closed doors. Simple was the feel of Keeler’s soft lips on his own after a long day, what the navigator was doing now.

Encke turned his head more fully into the kiss and lifted a calloused hand to the flawless skin of Keeler’s cheek.

“Take charge then, baby,” the fighter whispered, still so close to Keeler that their noses were touching and their breath was hot and heavy on each other’s lips. “Do what you want. I’m all yours.”

And just like that, in those few short words, Encke surrendered control. 


End file.
